


Conflicted (with a dose of Ricin)

by limin



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Character Study, Coming Out, Homophobia, I want to deck the Cozners, M/M, Some A+ Parenting™ going on here, by which I mean Horrible let's be clear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:35:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25007032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/limin/pseuds/limin
Summary: Despite everything, Kevin still loves his parents. That complicates the situation.
Relationships: Kevin Cozner/Ray Holt
Comments: 2
Kudos: 69





	Conflicted (with a dose of Ricin)

**Author's Note:**

> Me, rolling in with another character study centres on Kevin's coming out hours after Pride ended: I can explain-
> 
> (I procrastinate posting this because this fic is a lot, that's the explanation.)
> 
> Anyway, here's my take on the coming out. It was fun trying to fit Brahms and the phrase "magical genitalia" in and then it was not so fun writing the rest. I hope you'll enjoy.
> 
> Not beta’ed.

“Mother, Father,” Kevin greets, inching his head in a polite nod.

“Son.” Father nods back, just as emotionless as his greeting. “It’s good to see you and…Raymond, is it?”

“Yes, sir,” Raymond says, holding his hand out for a handshake. 

Kevin knows Father values politeness, and him not even batting an eye at the gesture is appalling. Raymond drops his arm back to his side, but Kevin can see how it’s now clenched in a fist. 

He resists the need to reach out and hold Raymond’s hand, to offer what little comfort he can. Instead Kevin clears his throat.

“Ah yes, do come in.” Mother smiles. “How was your trip, dear?”

Despite knowing the intention behind the term of endearment, there’s still a fleeting happiness at hearing Mother calls him dear. She knows exactly what she’s doing, Kevin thinks, and he’s playing right into her hands, and hating himself for it. “It was moderately pleasant. Raymond’s a good driver.”

“I’m sure he is.”

“He is.”

Raymond gives him a look. Kevin shrugs. “And how are you, Mother dearest?” he asks back, just as sweetly, a lot more sarcastically.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees Father’s jaw tightened. Kevin can practically hear “That is not how you speak to your mother” in his head, a familiar sentence though it was mostly directed at Martin. 

God, he wishes Martin has arrived sooner. At the very least it won’t be this awkward. 

“Work as usual, you know how it is,” Mother answers. “Honestly, sometimes I’m glad you decided to not be a real doctor. Save you the stress from dealing with patients, dear.”

Oh no. 

“Kevin is a real doctor. A PhD is a doctorate,” Raymond raises his voice. Kevin winces. “It’s literally describing a doctor.”

“Raymond,” he sighs. Raymond opens his mouth, no doubt about to launch into a discussion about etymology that he can recite word for word but a look from Kevin shuts him off. “It’s fine. Mother, my sincerest apology.”

“Accepted,” she smiles like she has the upper hand and as horrible as it is to admit, she does. “Why don’t I fetch you some drink? Your friend seems like he needs it.”

“My _boyfriend_ and I can do that, no need to concern yourself.” This time he gives up on all pretences and reaches out, intertwining their hands, delighted in Mother’s left eye twitching and Father’s eyebrow arching up but somehow feeling horrible at the same time. “Come, let me show you the kitchen.”

“You will have to excuse us,” Raymond tacks on behind him, and Kevin hides a smirk behind his hand.

  


* * *

  


The smirk melts away into a scowl the moment he’s out of his parents’ sight. Kevin knows this trip won’t be the most pleasant thing, but he doesn’t predict it to get this bad this early. Any hope of coming out with all relationships intact is fading away in front of his eyes, and isn’t that a sight to behold.

“Are you feeling well?” Raymond asks softly. 

Kevin takes a deep breath, in and out. “Physically, yes. Mentally, conflicted with a dose of Ricin.”

“Conflicted?” Kevin shakes his head. Raymond, thank God, doesn’t push. Not that Kevin would know what to say if he did. “Ricin then?” 

“Highly deadly in small amounts, will kill you in less than a day. Hard to detect before and after poisoning.” This is easier to answer. Frustration is always easier to process, Kevin thinks. “Very easy to administer.”

“Your boyfriend is a police officer,” Raymond points out. 

“Who better than to help me then?”

Raymond chuckles. “While I would happily offer my assistance whenever you ask, I’m afraid homicide is out of the question.” He reaches out then, gripping Kevin’s shoulder. An actual offer of comfort instead of a planned move to provoke his parents.

The physical contact is grounding. Calming. 

It’s warm.

“We can always take our leave if you want,” Raymond adds softly. “They are not worthy of your time.”

Kevin doesn’t say anything to that, merely retrieving the cups. “Water for you, I’m assuming?” he deflects. 

“That would be great, thank you.”

“Can you help me with the tea then? Earl Grey, if their tastes haven’t changed for the past few years.”

“Gladly,” Raymond says and lets his fingers linger for exactly 3 seconds longer than necessary before letting go.

  


* * *

  


The drinks are served and Mother compliments him on the perfect as usual tea. 

“Raymond helps,” Kevin answers with a smile. Mother doesn’t put down her cup, but her grip tightens. Father, on the other hand, takes another sip all the while maintaining eye contact with Kevin as if daring him to say anything more.

He doesn’t, merely sit down next to Raymond, close enough that their legs are touching and remain so throughout the small talk that feels more like the calm before the storm. And if passive aggressive remarks mixed with well aimed words is calm, then Kevin dreads to know what the storm will be like. 

Mother politely laughs at something Raymond has said. She uncrosses her legs only to cross them again the other way, hums softly, and leans forward. Kevin has played against her in chess enough times to sit up straighter, waiting.

“It has been some time since you’ve played anything for us, don’t you think?” Mother asks with a glint in her eyes that’s always more telling than she would like to be. 

Father has always been better at keeping a straight face, but it doesn’t mean that right now it’s blank. He’s curious too, and Kevin remembers it was Father that has pushed rather hard for him and Martin to pick up an instrument. 

Late nights playing with Martin for Father and Mother flashes before his eyes, and Kevin blinks those away. It isn’t the time to be sentimental.

Right now they want a performance, and Kevin will give them one. “It has. Do you have any requests?”

“Brahms,” Father answers. His favourite, Kevin notes.

“I assume you still have the violin then?”

“On top of the piano, dear.”

He walks there, ignoring the gazed burned to the back of his head, and gets everything ready. Raymond’s here, and if anything, Kevin can close his eyes and pretend this is a normal night in for them. 

He’s not in his old house, he’s in his own apartment. Raymond is not sitting there with his back straight under the scrutinising gaze of Mother and being ignored by Father, he’s smiling softly under the dim light. 

“Symphony 3, third movement,” Kevin announces, then he plays. Perhaps it’s pandering, playing Father’s favourite. Of Brahms, the Violin Sonata 1 that he plays with Martin would be his preferred piece, or he could have gone with Hungarian Dance for Raymond.

Father smiles at him when the first note rings out. Approval, how strange. Even stranger how Kevin still wants it, despite the situation at hand, despite knowing Father is playing this game too.

The opening melody line sweeps him away before Kevin can entertain the thought for long, reflective and melancholy. If the circumstances were different, he would have let his imagination fly with the nostalgic mood of the song that creates a longing for a different life. 

Instead, in this life, Kevin’s more focused on getting it perfect. There is something at stakes here, something he doesn’t know yet, and Kevin would be damned to let his mistake cost them the game.

He doesn’t close his eyes and pretend, knowing full well he won’t be able to do so the moment he chose the third symphony. 

At least based on the claps when he finishes, the effort pays off. Father doesn’t usually clap after he finishes playing, and a part of Kevin misses the criticism that always comes after. The rest of him preen under the praise.

“I see you have been practicing still,” Father says. It’s hard to tell if it’s just an observation or a compliment.

“Kevin is brilliant,” Raymond actually compliments. It feels genuine, but it can also be another planned move. Or perhaps it’s both. Raymond has always been better at handling conversation.

“He is, isn’t he?” Mother tilts her head then, looking at Raymond instead of Kevin. “And how about you? Do you play any?”

Ah, that’s her move then. Kevin wonders if he should continue playing, but that would only delay the inevitable. Mother is dead set, and she’s persistent.

“I am not as gifted as Kevin in that department,” Raymond answers. “However, he has been teaching me the piano in our free time.”

“He’s a fast learner,” Kevin adds. 

“I have a good teacher.”

“Professor Cozner,” Mother teases. Kevin looks away. “Still, I’m surprised. I never would have thought classical music is something you’d enjoy.”

“It has always been a passion of mine,” Raymond says. He’s not showing any sign of displeasure, but Kevin knows better. It must be unusual, being on the other side of the interrogation.

“Of course. Any composers or pieces that catch your attention?”

“Sibelius and Tchaikovsky, Bach, the list goes on. Choosing one is an impossible task, I'm afraid,” Raymond pauses. “And of course, Brahms. His 106 is mesmerising.”

“Ständchen in particular, don’t you think?”

“Ständchen? As in the opening from opus 104?”

Mother’s smile turns vicious. “104 is the Fünf Gesänge,” she says, awfully condescending and sadly correct. “Perhaps you should brush up on your classical, Raymond.”

Raymond falters. He’s disappointed in himself, Kevin notes, looking at the pursed lips. Still, he manages a nod. “I see.”

“But you don’t hear,” Mother says. Father chuckles. “Kevin, do lend him some of the recordings you have, won’t you?”

“Raymond has his own set, you needn’t worry.” He moves back to Raymond, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek before making himself comfortable on the couch again. “Though an orchestra trip ought to be educating, don’t you think?”

“We have one scheduled for the end of the month,” Raymond replies, catching on. “That is if you have sorted out your schedule with Columbia.”

“I will have to cover a few lessons, but it should be fine.” His eyes flicker to Mother and Father, then back to Raymond. “Perhaps you can help me with some Greek materials for the class. Your reading voice is rather lovely.”

“Speaking of, how is Columbia treating you, dear?” Mother cuts whatever reply Raymond might have off, swiftly changing the topic. Too swiftly, to no one’s surprise.

“It has been good.” Kevin plays along. “I can see myself continue teaching in the foreseeable future. Of course, there’s also researching and writing more books and essays on the side.”

“Good,” Father comments. “See Helen, the kid’s still good for something at least.”

“Oh Richard,” Mother croons. “You worry too much sometimes.”

“For good reason,” Father shrugs, throwing a look at Raymond. “Look what happens when we leave him alone for a few years. Going back home with that in tow.”

And in comes the storm. “Father–”

“Don’t, Kevin. We will sort this out, you see.”

“There is nothing to sort out, besides perhaps your attitude,” Raymond interjects, saying the words Kevin’s thinking but doesn’t dare say. “With all due respect, there is nothing wrong.”

Mother rolls her eyes. The frown is barely hidden behind her cup of tea.“Of course you would say that. This is all your doing, after all.”

Kevin’s mouth feels dry at the implication. It isn’t hard to connect the dots, to hear what Mother is saying, but it doesn’t mean he knows how to process the statement. All he knows is the sudden onset of unpleasantness that makes him feel sick.

“Excuse me?” Raymond asks, breaking the suffocating quiet that follows Mother’s words. 

“Kevin,” Mother keeps going, keeps talking, ignoring Raymond. She leans back, effortlessly casual. “You need to stay away from him, dear. This and his… magical genitalia and all the bad influences are messing with your head, I’m afraid.”

His eyes widen. Looking back, he will chuckle at the choice of words, but right now… “Pardon?”

“We care about you, Kevin.” There’s a ghost of a smile on her face that doesn’t help his churning stomach and self-restraint. “Your father and I only want what’s best for you.”

They do, Kevin realises. They care, care enough to stage this intervention, and that complicates the situation even more. He tries to gather his thoughts and emotions, tries to formulate a good answer. What even is a good answer in this situation? Is he trying to de-escalate, or to add fuel to the fire? 

“I am not gay because of Raymond,” Kevin murmurs, settling on the truth.

The silence is so pronounced he can practically hear a pin drop. He feels his heartbeat in his ears, fast and uneven. 

“You’re confused,” Father speaks up. For once, he sounds shaken, and Kevin’s lips twist into a bitter smile. “No son of mine-”

Martin’s bi, Kevin thinks to himself but doesn’t say it. It isn’t his place to tell that particular fact. It is his place to tell some other facts though.

“I’m not. 11th Grade, with Johnathan,” he confesses. “And then various on and off relationships from then. I am well aware of what I want.”

Father sucks in a sharp breath. Mother looks close to tears. How are they more emotional now than when he announces that he has completed his degree is beyond Kevin.

“Why?” Father asks sharply, demanding. 

“I doubt any reasoning I have will satisfy you.” His voice cracks. Kevin clears his throat, and tries again. “I just am. I didn’t tell you then because... I know this will be your reaction. You never did mask your distaste.”

“By which he means he knows you are huge homophobes.”

“Tact, Raymond!”

“Fact, Kevin.”

The banter, short as it is, calms Kevin down. Or perhaps not calm, just even out the too loud thoughts until he feels empty. He has said his part, his parents have expressed their opinion and judgement, it’s done. No more dancing around the topic, thanks god.

It’s easier now, easier to function without calculating everything. To take in Mother’s ruined mascara, Father’s clenched fist, the sound of a car approaching the house, the engine revving. Martin, Kevin’s mind supplies. 

Father must have heard it too. “Go let Marty in and then get out of my house,” he orders. There’s too much force behind the tone, forced authority to hide something else. “Get out.”

And come back when you’re “normal” again, Kevin hears the rest of the command. Never, then.

“Very well,” Kevin says. He stands up, ignoring how detached everything is right now, hoping he won’t collapse. “Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

A knock on the door, almost drowned out by a sob from Mother. Raymond with his hands resting on Kevin’s back, carefully guiding him out. He must be rather obvious then, for Raymond to do so. 

Very obvious, if the moment Martin sees him as Kevin opens the door, his first reaction is to pull him in for a hug. They don’t hug often, even as children, barely any physical contact that Kevin can remember. Perhaps once upon a time, Mother has held his hand, maybe.

“Hey,” Martin says, his voice muffled from where he’s leaning onto Kevin. He always forgot how tall Martin is now. “How was it?”

“It’s not important now,” Kevin answers, pulling back, taking in Martin’s general demeanour. Worry, concern, anger that’s barely masked, though he doesn’t know if the last detail is intentional or not. “What done is done.”

Martin winces. “They…”

“Haven’t changed,” he finishes the sentence. “I just got kicked out, and maybe disowned. Definitely getting removed from the will.”

“I’ll split my part of the inheritance, not to worry,” Martin jokes. “That is if they don’t remove me from the will too.”

“Oh?”

“You honestly don’t think I can talk to them in good conscience after this, right?” 

Kevin shrugs. “I know you love Mother and Father.”

“As did you,” Martin shoots back. 

Do, Kevin mentally corrects. As do you would be more accurate, though he doesn’t voice the thought.

“They will be fine with you, I think,” Kevin muses aloud instead. “You were, and I suppose, are definitely the favourite now. They will think you are salvageable and blame me for influencing you the way they thought Raymond’s influencing me.”

“They thought... nevermind. You sound rather sure of yourself there.”

“I have tested the water a few times before,” he shrugs. “Mostly when you were out playing. Definitely before you knew.”

“Protective,” Martin mutters.

“For good reason. You should have seen Father’s handwriting, he was livid,” Kevin tries to smile. “He’s expecting you. Best not to keep him waiting.”

“I will catch you later then.” He turns to Raymond, nodding. “You too Ray. Head over to dinner sometimes, won’t you? We still have much to discuss.”

“I have heard you talk at length about my teeth already,” Raymond replies too neutrally. If Kevin doesn’t know better he would think Raymond’s scared. 

“I will save that talk for your next check-up.” Martin grins. “In the meantime, take care of Kevin. He needs it.”

“Now who’s being protective?” 

Martin doesn’t answer, merely giving him a last pat on the shoulder before walking into Hell. He doesn’t close the door behind him, typical, and Kevin sighs before doing it himself with a soft click. 

“Shall we go home?” Raymond asks, his voice louder than the muffled voice Kevin can pick up through the door. 

Home. Kevin rather likes the sound of that. So he nods, linking his hand with Raymond because he wants to and because he can, because he doesn’t have to think about it and them right now. “So, that trip to the orchestra?”

“It’s not recommended to make any big decisions while you’re in distress,” Raymond replies. “God forbid you choosing a left orchestra seat.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” Kevin snaps before he can stop himself, pauses, then sighs. “It would seem that you’re right as usual.”

“Not as usual, no,” Raymond frowns. “I mixed up opus 104 and 106, and even before that, I was stumbling. Grouping Sibelius and Tchaikovsky together, and making Bach seems like an afterthought? I was a bubbling fool.”

Kevin watches as Raymond speaks, his voice clearing out the emptiness. That doesn’t make any sense, Kevin notes with amusement, but it doesn’t make it less true. 

“I love you,” Kevin says. 

Raymond pauses, smiles and says “I love you too.” He walks to the car then, pulling Kevin along. Not that it requires much effort, not when he will go with Raymond to the end of the earth. “We should not linger here any longer. Marty specifically instructs me to take care of you, and I know he will have my canines if I don’t heed the order.”

Kevin throws one last look at the house at the mention of his brother, remembering everything just in case this really is his last time visiting, wondering how is Martin’s talk going, mourning two of his relationships and chuckles.

“He has always preferred incisors, Raymond.”

“Oh. I better take great care of you then,” Raymond shrugs. “Scones?”

“At this hour?”

“I think we can indulge a bit after this visit, no?”

Kevin laughs freely. “I suppose we can.”

**Author's Note:**

> That certainly was something, wasn't it? 
> 
> I have some (a lot of) thought on Kevin's relationship with his parents, and this fic barely scratches the surface, but it's a start. Conflicted with a dose of Ricin indeed. It's a weird thing, writing this and walking that line between Kevin who still craves for a sliver of love and validation from his parents and well...everything else. 
> 
> I hope I get it right. 
> 
> Side note: please do yourself a favour and listen to Brahms. Choosing Symphony 3, 3rd movement and mentioning the violin concerto 1 is entirely self-indulgent. I'm also on tumblr at [@onemilisec!](https://onemilisec.tumblr.com/) if you wanna reach me :D


End file.
